Dispelling buffoonery with pride, Peter Whelan here unveils a peerless
selection of early music for the bassoon the better to dispense with old
jokes at the instrument’s expense. And few are better equipped to do so than
the principal bassoonist of the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, accompanied by
members of Ensemble Marsyas. Whelan, incidentally, plays on a bassoon made
by Peter De Koningh in 1994 after a Prudent Thierrot, c.1770. Given the
instrument’s provenance and its early establishment in France around the
1670s it’s not surprising that the buttressing material in the programme is
Gallic. Developments in German-speaking lands are represented by two of the
most eminent of composers.

Whelan whets the appetite by opening with a crowd-pleasing and
ear-titillating selection from Les Gentils Airs, an anthology
designed for private or salon use compiled at some point in the
mid-eighteenth century. Rameau is duly represented by two much performed
works for keyboard - Les Sauvages, played with memorable agility,
and the Tambourin that was also later appropriated by violinists
for their use. Michel Corrette’s La Furstemberg completes the
keyboard trio with its own dose of rustic vitality. From an older tradition
we find four pieces from Couperin’s Les goûts–réunis, ou Noveaux
concerts: Treizième Concert which are full of elegant simplicity.

Whelan performs the two Op.50 sonatas of Joseph Bodin de Boismortier,
written in 1734. Elegant and galant in style they respond to the
rich sense of colour that Whelan evokes, and by the virtuosic way in which
he negotiates the awkward leaps in the Gigue finale of the G major.
Technical traversal is something taken for granted in his performances – he
is the Indiana Jones of bassoon playing – but allied to this is his splendid
sense of legato. His breath control in the Allemanda of the E minor
is a thing to hear.

It’s also historically piquant to hear what may well be the earliest
recognised sonata for the instrument, by Johann Fasch, composed around 1728.
Even here the propensity of composers to write difficult intervallic leaps
is evident – clearly they had players who could negotiate them - as is the
serio-comic way in which Whelan’s little hesitations in the sonata’s
Allegro second movement bring things so vividly to life. Telemann’s
Sonata in F must also be one of the very earliest sonatas, published in
parts in the 1720s, and sounding very chromatic, as well as elegantly
lyrical. As an envoi we hear Eileen Aroon, the Irish air which was
arranged for bassoon and continuo by Matthew Dubourg, Handel’s first
violinist in Dublin. This doesn’t survive but Dubourg’s harpsichord
arrangement of the tune – it’s also known as Eileen O’Roon – has
survived. Whelan has fashioned this bassoon and continuo version from that
harpsichord original and it makes a charmer of a way to say farewell.

Though the focus is inevitably on Whelan, it would be quite wrong to omit
a salute to Sarah McMahon (cello), Thomas Dunford (lute) and Philippe
Grisvard (keyboard) who provide such articulate and deft colour-conscious
collaboration. The Wigmore Hall recording sets the seal on a deeply
rewarding recital, one that will stimulate and entertain in equal
measure.